


Magical Times w Friends

by sugarby



Series: Taletober [2]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern with Magic, Gen, M/M, f/m-ish near end
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-31
Updated: 2016-10-31
Packaged: 2018-08-28 04:26:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,305
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8431804
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sugarby/pseuds/sugarby
Summary: The good and not-so cherry-on-top times between friends with one of them being magically gifted—a wizard and his non-magical best friend.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I'm so glad I could finish and get this up by the last day, I was worried (yes, even with it's short length. I was indecisive about some scenes and it just took longer than it should've). This might be the last entry in the collection since it's the 31st today but I do have two others I worked on and just didn't get round to finishing, so I may leave it open for...a little while longer?
> 
>  **Jake Parker's D-13 prompt: "Friends"** , which I'd say it's pretty fitting for this entry, and either luck or fate! Happy Halloween and I hope you enjoy!~

  **i. Messaging**

         With Noctis' return to the academy, there was a concern—mainly with the left-behind best friend, Prompto—that they wouldn't be able to keep in touch, to stay updated. Being gone for months in the other world to learn and master all kinds of spells, and with only weekend-exclusive access to social devices make it quite difficult. After they shared a hug as they said their goodbyes, _one of them_ was very prepared to save-up all the interesting things that would happen in his life.

         Prompto has snapping pictures in mind, or making notes in a _very_ small, _manly_ and _to be kept secret_ journal. He doesn't expect Noctis' owl, Midnight, to fly in through his open-window the next afternoon. It gives a hoot, perched on the windowsill, watching him.

         "Noct's not here. Sorry, little guy."

         Midnight's body twists, ruffling its dark, fluffy feathers. Then, remarkably, he coughs out a rolled paper, tied by a thin ribbon.

         "—the heck?!"

         Midnight's big, blue eyes blink at him expectantly. He taps a foot on the paper and hoots.

         "Oh." Prompto understands the action, chuckles nervously at what the intimidating bird wants from him. "Haha, no, no. Nooope. Thank you but I'm fine over here. Yep. Chillin' all by myse—"

         Midnight screeches impatiently, an ear-piercing sound, a skin-shivering shriek.

         Prompto feels embarrassed by the thought and will be _mortified_ to ever actually admit that he's slightly afraid of this bird. He isn't any typical bird, he belongs to his friend—his _magical_ friend; the only funny thing to take away from is his resemblance to his owner. Midnight may mean well, screaming and keeping his enormous, blue eyes on him at all times, but it's nothing short of creepy.

         With enough courage, he retrieves the paper and Midnight stays chilled.

         It's a letter, handwritten.

 

 

> _'Hey, Prom,_
> 
> _Well, I'm settled in to school again. It didn't take long, I've just left most things unpacked. I think I told you before that we're only allowed to use our phones and stuff on the weekends. Sucks, I know. The academy's pretty strict and out-dated but at least they let us send letters out (Midnight's cool, he won't bite). Hope you're alright, too. I know you've got your own stuff going on but write back soon, yeah? Just don't leave it too long._
> 
> _No, seriously, or I can't call Midnight back and he gets brash when he's impatient._
> 
> _\- Noct'_

         Midnight hoots as if attesting to his owner's warning.

          _'Well'_ , Prompto thinks as he goes to sit at his desk and grabs a pen and a sheet of paper (from his Chocobo-themed notebook), ' _This'll be new_ '. He tries not to mind leaving his computer-game paused and thinks of a good way to start his reply off. People don't send letters much these days, it's all electronic and less of a hassle with simplified texting, and there's less chance of getting a hand-cramp. Also, nothing interesting has happened in the three days Noctis has been gone—school for Prompto hasn't started yet, it's tomorrow.

Midnight smacks his foot down and screeches again, every ounce of impatience lost and sending his wings in to a frenzy in the air, looming dangerously. Prompto dives under his desk and guesses he'll be writing his reply there, from underneath both that and the intense gaze of a wizard's darn, pet owl.

 

 

> _'Hey, Noct'_
> 
> _Glad you're settled in are okay, and I'm fine, thanks. Yes it DOES suck a whole bunch that you're only allowed your phone at weekends (the latest generation model is wasted on you now! Let's trade!) but know what's worse? Being watched like a HAWK by YOUR BIPOLAR OWL._
> 
> _\- your now slightly-Ornithophobic friend, Prompto'_

 

.   .   .

**ii. Misconception**

         It's thought by the non-magical friend that maybe the laughing wizard doesn't have enough rights to be doing so, but Noctis can't help it, tipping his head back, reacting to the seriously-said and all the more hilarious presumption. "—ahaha, what?! That's _ridiculous_ , Prom. Owls don't talk."

         "I'm sorry, they don't _what_?!"

         "They _can't_ talk."

         Prompto isn't one-hundred percent convinced, because Midnight looked ready to curse him _Monday through Sunday_ with how long he took to write his reply, and in the magical world it'll be a surprise if even the furniture there don't have opinions to say!

         Noctis calms, elaborates, "Snakes talk. Spiders, bees and most insects, too."

         "Of course," Prompto throws his hands up. "Because it's common sense, right? _Everyone_ knows!"

         "But owls? It's weird. Think if your mail talked." Noctis says in example, and for a good moment he seems like he's making sense to his best friend. He just has to remember, "Wait, our mail can do that too."

         Prompto flips out, double-taking and shouting, "That's crazy! You have talking mail over there?! Seriously?! _Literally_?! Are you—are you _kidding_ me?!"

         "They're called _Chatters_..." Noctis watches his friend sort of stomp around, frustrated. This whole business of being friends with a wizard and learning the ways of his world really gets his head spinning. "They're only really as good as they sound when you get one from your father, who's upset when he hears you've slept through a class or two...and maybe taken his expensive, flying car out and over to the non-magical world."

         Prompto stares, inquisitively. "...I thought you said he wasn't mad!" he asks in a sense of worry.

         Noctis shrugs. "That didn't stop him from sending me a chatter in the middle of dinner, where all the year groups could hear what he had to say." What came from the talking-mail that evening wasn't fury or volume or threats of being grounded, his dad went old-school, sneakily so, and asked where the young son who kept a toy-bear collection and clung to blankets he named had gone to. Noctis saw the rest of the week with his head down, for that night he was reminded, no matter his status of young prince, he stood a chance of losing his cool credibility. 

.   .   .

 

**iii. Quitch**

         "Okay, you're gonna have to explain it to me again."

         "I've explained it five time—"

         "And I still don't get it!"

         Noctis groans, "It's basically Soccer but on flying broomsticks, and Volleyball because you have to pass around the ball—or ' _Quitch_ '. And it can get a bit rough like rugby when you have to push in to players."

         "You know I was chubby as a kid! Did it look like I played sports to know what they're about?!" It's all a bit too much for Prompto to imagine, having to see a Soccer field but in the air?! And seeing a Volleyball court and net and players hitting the butt of brooms against the ball. And if you shove someone while they're in the air then they must fall, right? Do they just land on their face and go splat? Is that okay in the magical world?!

         Prompto shakes his head furiously at the imagination.

         Noctis pinches the bridge of his nose, sighing, "Okay, just..." he sighs, calmly says, "All you need to care about is the Quitch. It's worth a lot of points and declares the winning team overall but it only comes out in the last ten minutes of the game—unless both teams tie before the interval. So as long as the Quitcher, the specific player meant to catch the winged-ball— _ergo me_ —can do that and score by throwing it in to their team's golden hoop, they win. Okay? Do you get it? now? Please say _yes_ , even if you don't, because at this point I think I know the game better than I know anything else."

         "...Dude, I think you've shrunk my brain with all that magic-jibber-jabber!" Prompto says.

         "I'm not saying it again. Just leave it." Noctis says, sighing for the third time, wishing that he never breathed a word of his world's sport to his best friend. But if he really must explaining anything about it to him, "By the way, Prom, just know that the game has no connection whatsoever to cheese—fancy kind or otherwise.

.   .   .

**iv. Snacks**

         Like thrilled children on the last day of October, the two boys nestled round the coffee table, against the cozy fire-place, unleash a mountainous amount of candy bought and stored over the past month.

         Noctis presents his assorted,  _magical_  confectionery first, so he goes over them one by one until he's able to present the last two, his favourites. One caramel-ish colored looking cup-cake with a chocolate outer-rim, "This is a cauldron cake. It has custard inside that shoots out everywhere inside your mouth when you bite in to it." he briefly reminisces over days of stuffing his face with them at a younger age, and his father stressing over the mess but finding it equally cute to see his son so unrestrained and happy. Presenting a swirl of red licorice next, he says, "And this is laughing licorice. Each piece makes you giggle more and more. So eat too many and you suffocate."

         "Holy shit..." Prompto gasps. "That's so fucking awesome!"

          _Not if it means you wake up in the hospital with a paralyzed mouth and the quickest cure is a horrible tasting liquid medicine'_ , Noctis thinks, shuddering at the memory. "Your turn."

         Prompto reaches out for a packet of mini-sized, chocolate and cream biscuits, clutching them comfortingly. "Oreos are delicious!" he finds himself looking over at the rest, loose wrappers from lollipops and jelly-sweets catching his heart, and milk bottles and rainbow puffs, "But so are these! And these! Oh, absolutely love these! These too! Oh man, I finished my Sour worms yesterday!"

         "It's good to see you're still in touch with...well, you." Noctis says, meaning it as an admirable feat since most people care too much about the way they look and forgo guilty pleasures altogether rather than just cutting down.

         "Yeah..." Prompto smiles, flustered by the compliment. "I worked hard to be this adorable and handsome."

         " _Not_ that it was necessary," Noctis doesn't neglect a stern reminder, noting that his best friend would still be his best friend regardless if he lost his childhood weight or retained it.

         "It's fine, really! Watch, I'm gonna reap all the perks," he winks then chucks a chocolate biscuit up in the air to catch later in his mouth, a skill learned from eating sweets long enough. 

.   .   .

**v. Academics**

         "Oh, _come on_." Noctis has heard enough about calculus—'how numbers and letters shouldn't mix if they get complicated', and about Phys. Ed—how 'some of us aren't meant to find pleasure in pushing themselves to the brink of death!'. The way the young wizard sees things, his best friend has it easier in regards to schooling. It's not like you have to turn your owl in to a water-cooler to pass the transfiguration term."

         "You can just wave your wand and turn a whole ocean in to a water cooler!" Prompto dramatically argues. "Whereas I'm being made to run nearly thirty laps around a gigantic field, and in the spare time I deserve to relax there are intimidatingly-sized textbooks telling me to open them up!"

         "My textbooks _can_ actually talk, Prom! Try pulling pixies out of your hair."

         "Normal non-magical school is still crazy and tough!"

         They're silent for a time, internally arguing their cases by pilling up more examples, experiences.

         "Let's just admit it. Magical, non-magical...school's a pain." Noctis says and hears Prompto's prominent pop of the syllable ' _yep_ '. On this, they can agree, despite the differences of their two worlds. Education being necessary but no less tough is a consensus.

.   .   .

**vi. Music**

         Prompto doesn't settle on enjoying a single band or artist—he wouldn't be able to bare the deprivation of differently plucked strings in awesome guitar solos, incessant beats to drums of many capable affects, and the kinds of vocals that make him want to thrash his head about and sing along to, or own a cracked yet rightful note of ascending levels. He enjoys all kinds of bands, doesn't settle for just one, and he doesn't dictate or judge anyone with other tastes. 

         But he has to mark a line when Noctis shows up one weekend, straight after his academy's dance, and mentions a _new type_ of band never heard of before and says they're _'Likable'_ and that he _'Never once felt like jamming a fork in my ears'_.

         Prompto's all excited and ready to fall in deep with another band, sitting up straight—and with his tail wagging if he were a dog. "Awesome! Lay them on me, bro!"

         "They're called Skelly on Ghosts."

         "Huh...okay."

         Noctis shrugs. "It's meant to be a play on words. You know, Jelly on toast?"

         "You mean jam."

         "Same difference. Anyway, they handed out free copies of their single and I got one for you," Noctis pulls out from his jacket a signed CD case, pristine and sleek, themed by the stellar colors of silver and black behind the five members of the band in center, the front man wearing a trendy top hat and leaning against the microphone, the musicians beside him playing their instruments. The design of the case looked nothing short of creative.

         There was the rather obvious concern for Prompto, however. "Um, Noct...are they...uh, they're, uh, kind of all..."

         "A literal skeleton and four ghosts?" Noct rightfully guesses. " _Yep_ , that's Skelly On Ghosts."

.   .   .

**vii. Transportation**

         "—Broomstick, flying car, bus, walk-way mirror, chimney-tube express—" Noctis thinks he's presenting options of transport to his friend, when in reality he's only listing all the oddities about his world, about his being a wizard and so used to it that none of the aforementioned ways of getting around surprise him.

         Best friend, Prompto—pretty-much grounded with his ordinary self and world where brooms clean, cars are driven on flat surface, mirrors don't lead to places and chimneys are exclusive for dust, birds and the infamous Santa—takes the safe bet and decides, "Bus! Let's take the bus."

         "You don't wanna hear the other—"

         "No, Noct, I really don't."

         At ten in the evening, while life is quieting down in some parts of the world, it's only just beginning for youths, for a pair of best friends looking for a crazy night tonight. Their usual hang-outs won't do it tonight, Noctis says, though it's just a weak lore/excuse to whisk Prompto away to his world and the magical side of fun. And luckily, he isn't as opposed to it as he was expected to be.

         So Prompto's whisked quite literally; Noctis waves his wand and they're gone in at a moment's _poof_!. Now here they are, waiting at a regular-looking bus stop. He's actually surprised, and maybe...disappointed? Prompto sticks his head out of the shelter, looking at both far ends of the road for signs of creative reality. He doesn't understand why they couldn't have just taken a regular bus in this case, why they had to jump worlds and wait four minutes for one.

         Noctis says, "It's faster."

         " _What_ is?"

         "This bus. It'll take us there quickly."

         "Takes us  _where_?!"

         In all fairness, these questions should've been asked and answered when they were still in Prompto's living room.

         The bus soon shows up...with several legs that look too much like chubby, cat paws, and with a head as round and fluffy as the animal itself. Prompto, open-mouthed, deducts that they're about to step on an actual cat bus! 

         Prompto eyes the bus up and down as he steps on to it, he feels its furry interior along the way before he settles down, feels it purr underneath him when he sits, thinks Noctis looks too casual about all this, hangs on for dear life as the legs of the bus let it leap from building to building and dash along roads, and he concludes that _this_ is where the line between their worlds is drawn.

         "So, wanna catch a movie first?" Noctis wonders, no set plan in mind nor discussed and ultimately open for anything that could be a good time. "There's a theater showing all the classic horror films tonight for Halloween."

         "Okay..." Prompto steadily feels easiness coming back to him. He pats the bus which he decides is like a giant, snugly couch. "Sure! That sounds good."

         "I should probably let you know that...3D movies here? They literally jump out at you. Literally."

         Prompto sighs, feeling his comfort drain. "Funnily enough, I'm more surprised I didn't see that coming."

 

.   .   .

**viii. Misconduct**

         "Hey, you doing okay?" Noctis asks, coming round the bed and minding the scrunched up tissues along the way. He gives the bedridden friend time to let out awful coughs before expecting him to answer.

         "Tell me, Noct, do I look like I am? Am I up and the life of the party like usual?" Prompto asks rhetorically, a hand clinging to another scrunched up tissue. His hair's disheveled, his nose is redder than a reindeer's, and every time he speaks his throat wants to rip itself apart, and when he lies down he feels just as dizzy as he does when he stands, and there are tiny people in his head doing maintenance work and banging around with their tiny tools!

         "I'm no doctor but I'm gonna go with _no_."

         "I think I'm dying."

         Noctis' eyes nearly roll, "You're not dying—"

         "How do we know?!" Prompto asks, all of a sudden seriously considering it. "You said it yourself that you're no doctor! This could be it for me! I could be slowly descending in to the worst sickness of my life and—"

         "Well how's about I try and cure it then?" Noctis is already standing up and taking his wand out from his jacket, holding it at the ready with an original spell being made in mind. "I can always—"

         "No."

         "You didn't even let me—"

         Prompto flings a finger out accusingly, " _I see_ your _wand_ , Sir, and I say _no_! No way!"

         "You wanna stay in bed sick then? I thought the meds weren't working for you."

         "They're not but..." Prompto wearily looks to the wand and retracts to his headboard, pulls up the sheets to cover himself. He thinks of the time Noctis offered and tried to remove a stain from his shirt and _turned him invisible_ for twenty-six hours.

         "Like I said, I'm not a doctor—" Noctis says, and the sick best friend begs him not to remind them. "But it can't be that hard to create a spell. It's a worth a try, right?"

         Prompto's answer is a squeaky voice, likely saying something against the statement.

         Noctis waves his wand about a couple time, trying to construct an easy rhythm spell in his head on the spot. He has to be mindful, spells are taken too literal in the other world—confronting a jerk consequentially ended in turning himself in to a Pomeranian for a whole week. "Let's see...um, being sick has gotten...old, so...let Prompto...fight off the cold...?" He notes how unsure he sounded at the end, but he's grateful he managed to get the spell to even rhyme.

         A mist of gentle, pastel blue—and a bit of a chilly temperature—wafts out from the wand to surround the sick friend in a cloudy blanket. It darkens and thickens until it completely hides away the friend, and it keeps that way for a drawn out moment. Noctis hopes for the best while fearing a catastrophe. It won't just be his wand that could be confiscated under a temporary suspension for seriously harming a non-magical person, he can see himself being grounded for the next life-time when his father hears.

         Noctis gulps, gravely worried.

         The mist clears, slowly falling around Prompto and dusting his bed in sparkles.

         Immediately, the sense of trouble is very real as the young prince looks at the result of his original spell.

         "Hey, I think it's worked! I feel better already...but kind of cold. Weird. Hey, Noct, how do I look?"

         "Shit..." Noctis says, feeling completely out of his depth and _completely screwed_  just looking at Prompto Argentum, the sick friend now turned living Snowman!

         "Noct? Hellooo?"

         "Okay..." Noctis licks his lips, nervous. "Here's the thing, Prom...

         "Yeah?..."

         "What you should remember is that...you said you feel _better_."

 

.   .   .

**ix. Conflict**

         It's bound to happen and when it does, Noctis instantly feels like disconnecting himself from the magical world. Discrimination is something that's found anywhere but with Brian Kingsburke, he feels like one of the worst, and sharing something as special as magic with the likes of him turns Noctis' stomach inside out. They have classes together so Noctis puts up with him—surprisingly, he's not half bad some days.

         As soon as he realizes the plus-one tagging along with the young prince isn't from their academy and possess no magical abilities at all, he sets out to target him. Calls him and his kind 'Normies', an unfair, derogatory term in the magical-world. He invites Prompto to try a special drink without hinting its peculiar spiciness is from the charm he's put on; Noctis only looks away for a moment, going against his better judgement and trusting Kingsburke not to be a jerk tonight, but when he looks back he finds Prompto screaming and jumping about in panic with his hair on fire.

         Not actually on fire, it's just an illusion spell. Noctis knows it and Kings _jerk_ definitely knew when he _ill-charmed_ the drink. But Noctis gets to see something magical and it feels like their worlds swich as it happens. Prompto returns with the spell worn off, a pleasant smile and even a can of soft drink he offers in good faith.  
  
         Kingsburke takes it, commenting that 'normies' aren't all bad if they stand to be good, loyal servers if nothing more.  
  
         Prompto pleasantly says, "Thanks, man."  
  
         "Prom," Noctis calls, confused. "What are you—"  
  
         It erupts in the mean-wizard's face quite literally, the soda, leaving Kingsburke choking and coughing and drenched in the karma that, in this case, is lemon flavored and fizzy. It stings his eyes the way it stings his pride as wizards nearby stop to notice and laugh. The not-so-great aristocrat wizard looks as pitiful as he talks about non-magical persons.

         Prompto moves to walk past but stops beside the wizard to say his peace, "You wizards may have your magic," he elects a big grin, "But us 'normies' have a few _tricks_ of our own."  
  
         "Whoa." Noctis says, thoroughly impressed, and makes sure to catch Prompto's high-five on their way out. It was only a drink and a couple of mentos—a classic, easy prank—but the way his best friend shrugged off the degredation to come back and dared to pull it off...that was some magic all on its own.

.   .   .

**x. Perks**

         There are more beyond conjuring up something forgotten at the store, and slowing down time when late for something, charming instruments like needles to fix the ruined like shirts, and ultimately all the every-day tasks a wip of a wand can handle in no time.

         It's when Noctis comes home for winter break with, in Prompto's opinion, the best gift ever. she's got brown hair styled in a cute, bouncy bob, a sweet-pink winter-shawl over her pristine and pleated, white dress, pink ear-muffs on matching the faint tint in her cheeks.

         " _Mara_..." Prompto says dreamily as he watches the girl wheel her suitcase right behind on her way in to his house, after a spectacular introduction and polite offer to make them all tea. He'd been taken by her pretty face and pretty voice and oh, she's interested in normal people living their everyday lives without magic? Prompto can't wait to show her how he handles the dishes then—all done by hand, no magical help whatsoever.

         Did he mention she's pretty?!

         She is.

         Noctis comes over to the _bewiched_ friend he expected to meet when he and his classmate got out of his car. Mara's great and her father's actually a normal guy which makes her only half a witch and still excited to get to know his best friend. "Hm, remind me, Prom," Noctis lifts a hand to close his friend's gaping mouth for him before snow falls inside, "What was it you said to me before? That being friends with a wizard is... _crazy_?"

         "I'm _so_ sorry! Okay? I love you! How's that for an apology?!"

         It could be better, definitely wouldn't mind some compliments, but Noctis takes it for now. He nods in the direction Mara went, inside Prompto's house, "Get to know her well and we're cool. Maybe even get her number, too."

         "I love you." Prompto says it like he's in a dreamy state again, thinking only about Mara and about how Noctis is the one who brought her here. "Dude, I love you...c'mere," he comes forward with open arms and embraces the young Prince.

         Noctis awkwardly stands there, patting his friend on the back in reassurance. "No, this _totally_ isn't gonna make her think you're gay." he sarcastically comments.

         "How'd you even find her?! You didn't summon her from, like, a fairy-tale or anything, right?"

         Noctis gives his friend a 'really?' type of look and Prompto laughs under it. "No, she's new in my class and we got partnered together. We had to turn her hamster in to a pair of gloves, missed the spell by a syllable and ended up turning it in to a jumper."

         "Wow...I'm sure that it...was comfy...?"

         "And, get this, she actually lives in a nearby neighborhood to you, Prom. Match made in heaven if you ask me.  _Almost_."

         Prompto lets him go and says, "I don't tell you enough but I've always _loved_ that you're a wizard."

         "Funny, that," Noctis smiles. "I was _sure_ you thought differently."

**Author's Note:**

> -iii. it's a ref to the 'prequel' about how Prompto (and I tbh) think 'Quitch' sounds like a type of cheese (or quiche for me, haha).  
> -viii. Noct's spell is reversible. He had to call Prof. Ignis who told him the spell "Reverti" reverses _most_ spells, even the "childish, misbegotten ones..." as he would say.  
>  -x. I can believe Prompto acting like Mabel Pines when it comes to pursuing romance.


End file.
